Remembrance
by Adam Shmadam
Summary: Some things you just can't forget.
1. Chapter 1

Author Note: This story takes place sometime after the events of 5.3 and 5.4 and ignores 5.5. Any medical stuff in this story is completely made up by me for dramatic purposes – I have no idea if this is actually possible/probable, but I think it makes a good story for our favorite couple!

Malcolm found her sobbing in the pantry.

"Ruth, come here." He wrapped her in her arms.

"I should have been there…"

"Don't be daft. There's nothing you could have done, and we would be worrying for the both of you. Harry wouldn't thank you for it, and that's a fact."

"Where…?"

"I'm still running a search of the likely hospital databases, but we should know in a few more minutes."

"Stupid, stupid man…" and she continued to cry softly.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

He let the chaos wash over him. He felt the blood trickle down his face, the taste of it making him nauseous. His shoulder was most certainly dislocated, and based on the burning in his chest, many of his ribs were done, too. But his head – it was pain he had never imagined. He was vaguely aware of figures moving about in the smoke. He tried to call out to them, but the ringing in his ears made it difficult for him to know if he had been successful or not. He tried to stand, but pain kept him anchored to the ground. It could have been a few moments or a century, and he felt rather than saw gentle hands turn him over and lift him onto a gurney. Suddenly he was in fresh air, and he was relieved that the ringing seemed to have subsided a bit.

"Sir, what's your name?"

It felt as if his skull was on fire. Panic gripped him.

"I have no idea."

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

The relief she felt when Malcolm told her the news was soon replaced by consternation. Why would Harry be admitted to hospital, not as Harry Pearce, but as his legend for the Embassy reception? It didn't make sense. Adam had gone to find out more about Harry and it took all of her willpower not to ask to go with him. Right now she was needed to find out how a bomb worked its way past Embassy security in the first place.

An uncharacteristic swear escaped Malcolm's lips.

"What is it?" Jo asked.

"I hacked into the hospital database to get an update on Harry's condition."

"Is it that bad?" Ruth had gone pale.

"He's not there."

"Then he's been discharged." Jo countered.

"No, _he's not there_. If he had been merely discharged, there would still be a record of him being admitted. There's nothing. It's as if he didn't exist."

"Could it be just protocol for a spook?"

"I've never heard of such a thing."

Forty-eight hours later…

Adam entered through the pods, followed closely by the DG.

"Could we have everyone in the Briefing Room?"

_It must be about Harry_ was the thought on everyone's minds as they sat around the conference table.

"I want to thank all of you for your work these last few days. I know it's not been easy." The DG started.

"What happened to Harry?" Ruth asked pointedly.

The DG seemed to gather his thoughts, as if debating within himself how much to tell.

"That's what I need to talk to you all about. As you know Harry was, unfortunately, in the blast at the Embassy. He's recuperating from some pretty serious physical injuries."

Jo looked over to her friend to see how she was taking this news. She knew Ruth was having the hardest time of anyone with this current situation, regardless of what she said to the contrary.

The DG continued,

"There's been a complication, though."

"What kind of complication?" Malcolm asked.

"Harry's lost his memory." Adam answered.

"Apparently, in some cases of amnesia, you can forget how to do things like walk and talk, but luckily Harry is of the "high-functioning" sort. He can remember things like how to read and write and even retains some general knowledge, but any personal information is completely gone, at least temporarily."

"How temporarily?"

"The doctors are doing what they can. They'd like all of you at some point over the next few days to go see Harry, and see if that jogs any memories for him. Dr. Collins will be in touch to coordinate with you. Until then, Adam is in charge."

"Hopefully, not for long," Adam countered.

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He had had enough. The drugs they had given him made the situation worse. Instead of a throbbing head and bouts of dizziness, he had nausea, dry mouth, and couldn't sleep. Everything about his life was a complete blank, and he was terrified. Was he married? Did he have a family? The previous day he was hastily transferred to this clinic, and a very well-dressed and pompous man explained to him that his name was Harry Pearce, and he worked for MI-5. If it weren't for the serious look on the young blond man who was also in the room, he might have thought it was all an elaborate joke. In addition to all the tests he had to go through every day, he was going to be subjected to a strange kind of lineup – people from his life paraded in front of him in the hope that the memories would be unlocked. Collins seemed optimistic, and Harry hoped to God he was right.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

Ruth thought back to their one and only date, and it struck her that she was similarly nervous, which was ridiculous. She had no real hopes that he would recognize her. She was the last of the Grid to go do this, and so far, there had been no breakthroughs. No one had been recognized; Zaf had half-heartedly joked that maybe they should just bash Harry over the head like they do in bad movies. Jo was particularly somber when she came back from her meeting, and avoided Ruth the rest of the afternoon.

Dr. Collins met her outside.

"Ms. Evershed. How are you?"

"Fine. How's Harry?"

"Grumpy." She laughed.

"So the same old Harry then."

"I suppose so. So, you know the rules?"

"Yes, I'm not supposed to volunteer any information, about him or myself. Sounds like it might be a short conversation."

"Well, we had to restrict things a bit – Harry's too observant for his own good. I suppose that's why he does what he does. He managed to get one of the nurses' life stories out of her before we knew it. We really need to be able to separate out his memories from his present observations, if possible."

They walked down a long corridor, and before they could enter Harry's room, a nurse approached.

"Dr. Collins, can I have a quick word?"

"Ms. Evershed, would you mind going on in? I won't be a moment."

The room was bright and sunny, and Harry stood at the window, his back to her. At the sound of the door opening, he bellowed,

"I told you I'm not taking those drugs, so bugger off!"

"Sorry?"

Surprised at the unexpected voice, he turned around quickly, and instantly regretted it as dizziness threatened to overwhelm him. She spoke again, and it was like someone had thumped him hard between the shoulder blades.

"Are you OK?"

"Yes. It'll pass in a second…I'm sorry for that just now. I obviously thought you were someone else."

"Obviously." She smiled, and his mind was reeling.

_I know this woman?_

"Please, sit down. I suppose you're the latest from the spook parade? Or are you a ringer?"

"Ringer?"

"I wouldn't put it past Collins to throw in a few random people to throw me off. Poor man is convinced I'll hoodwink him so I can get out of here, and then become a menace to society." He grinned, and Ruth's heart hammered away a little bit quicker.

"You're not taking any medication?"

_She's worried about me. _

"They're doing more harm than good. I'll take my chances with the headaches."

"How are you? Otherwise, I mean."

He considered her carefully. The niggling feeling in the back of his mind was most definitely not going away.

"Apart from not having the faintest idea who I am, I'm OK. Still sore, but considering what happened…" He got up and started pacing the room, glancing hard at her every so often.

_He's scared._

She was having a hard time resisting the urge to take him in her arms and comfort him. The man in front of her was so unlike the Harry Peace of the Grid, who was always reluctant to show fear. This vulnerability was oddly endearing, and it occurred to her that maybe it was always just lurking beneath the surface, if one were to look hard enough. They were silent, and his stares seemed to go straight through her. She must have looked discomforted, because he suddenly stopped his pacing, and sat down again.

"I'm sorry, I don't mean to stare. It's just…" he trailed off, not knowing how to explain what was going on in his head.

"It's OK. You're in a difficult situation."

"Thank you."

"Some would be envious, being able to forget things."

_She's had sadness in her life. _

"But not at the cost of losing the good things as well, surely?"

Before she could answer him, Dr. Collins came in.

"How are you, Mr. Pearce?"

Harry merely pouted. Ruth thought it would be interesting to watch a battle of wits between these two. The doctor addressed Ruth.

"How has he been?"

"A perfect gentleman. We actually were on the verge of waxing philosophic there, just before you arrived."

Harry noticed the playful glint in her impossibly blue eyes, and he was suddenly crestfallen.

_What I wouldn't give in this moment to know you._

"Well, I can take you back when you are ready." the doctor said.

"Would you like to stay for tea, Ruth?"

_**More to come soon…please review! **_


	2. Chapter 2

No one was more surprised than Harry when the Ruth's name escaped his lips. It was as if some gear had slipped into place in his mind. Ruth. This woman who stirred something up in him was Ruth. He remembered nothing beyond that, no matter how hard he tried.

"I rather think she'll stay for tea." Collins said, trying to contain his excitement.

"Harry?" She was looking at him with an expression he couldn't define.

"I just knew, in that instant. I don't know how or why."

"Don't force it," she said as she gently touched his arm.

_Who is this woman to me? Wife? Don't be stupid. Neither of us have rings. Lover? Possibly. If so, I am a pretty lucky bastard. But it is more likely that she's a neighbor or the woman who does my dry cleaning…and yet… _

His head pounded inexorably.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

"Where's Ruth?"

"Off to see Harry."

"Hmm. She's been gone a long time."

A few hours later, a pale Ruth entered the pods, and before she was able to reach her desk, Jo pounced on her.

"What happened? Did he recognize you?"

"Yes and no."

"What do you mean?"

"After a bit, he knew my name, but nothing else."

"But that's good news, isn't it?"

"Of course. But now he's beating himself up because that's all he can remember. He's not as strong as he thinks he is and he'll push himself too hard…"

"Don't worry, I'm sure they'll take good care of him. So what's next?"

"I'm going to go back tomorrow, and see what happens….What?"

Jo was grinning at her.

"Oh, I don't know. It's just a bit romantic, that's all. Him remembering _your_ name…"

The blond narrowly missed getting hit by a flying notebook.

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He felt like hell. He had barely slept, and when he did he was assaulted by strange dreams, fleeting images that were worrisome in their intensity. In the melee of his subconscious, it was hard to distinguish between what was memory and what was fantasy. It was not that surprising that in the confusion in his head, Ruth played a large part. Ruth. He had held on to her like a drowning man who's been tossed a life ring. _Don't be stupid, Pearce. One way or the other, this will end and she'll go back to her life. She's being kind. _He went to the sink, and splashed cold water over his face. He stared in the mirror intently. _What kind of person are you, Harry Pearce?_ He was disappointed to discover he looked as bad as he felt. Ruth was coming back to see him today.

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"Can I talk to you for a moment?"

"Of course, Doctor."

She was ushered into Dr. Collins' posh office, and for some reason, Ruth felt uneasy, like some naughty student called into the headmaster's office. She wondered if the patients felt the same.

"How is Harry?"

"Well as can be expected, but it's still early days yet. Yesterday was an unexpected leap forward."

"I'm glad. Unexpected?"

"These things don't work very often, but we have to make the effort. In this case, we were rewarded. Usually, the patient will recognize someone, but the name comes much later. You and Harry have given me much to ponder." He looked at her carefully, and she could tell there was something on his mind.

"Ms. Evershed, I have to ask you something personal. You have to understand that I'm just trying to do my best for Harry and I don't have any time for gossip."

"You want to know about Harry and me?"

"Were you sleeping together?" The doctor had the good grace to look embarrassed for asking.

"No. Harry and I….well, it's complicated…" She fidgeted with her hands.

"I'm beginning to expect nothing less, from either of you."

She surprised herself with her frankness. She told the doctor of their working relationship, which had very soon developed into something more like friendship. Then she described their one and only date.

"So, dinner didn't go well?"

"On the contrary."

"But you told him you wouldn't go out with him again."

"I was scared..."

"Of what?"

"A thousand things. The office gossip. What would happen when it all fell apart and we'd still have to work together…"

The doctor thought on this new information for a moment.

"How did he take it, you turning him down?"

"To be honest, I don't know. He keeps things locked away most of the time. Towards me, he was as he always was. I was a little surprised, though. I expected him to be a little more persistent and…"

"..were disappointed when he wasn't?"

"Yes. No. Oh hell!"

The doctor rather unexpectedly started to laugh.

"Well, Ruth, what do you say we get Harry sorted out, and then you two can muddle through your non-relationship relationship, shall we?"

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"Hi."

"Hi." He responded softly, just like after Havensworth.

_Don't be daft. He's still Harry, after all. _

"Rough night?"

"Are you insinuating I look less than fresh?"

"It's just that you look like you haven't slept in ages."

"I'm sure that I have, not really. You, on the other hand, are a sight for sore eyes." Harry hoped that didn't sound quite as naff as he thought it might have.

"They could you give you something for that you know."

"No, thank you. My head is muddled enough at the moment."

He turned and considered the view out the window.

"Have you been outside yet?" she asked him.

It took a bit of cajoling, but she managed to convince the doctors that Harry wouldn't bolt the second he was out of doors. It was unseasonably warm, and she could practically see the tension leave his shoulders as they walked along a little bit of grass behind the clinic.

"How are you?"

"Fine."

"Work OK?"

"Busy as usual."

He peppered her with questions, and she was finding it hard to keep her answers as impersonal as possible. She sympathized with the nurse Harry had cross-examined. She had to remind him of Collins' rules several times.

"Bugger the rules."

She laughed and he thought it must be one of the most beautiful sounds he had ever heard.

"Collins is just looking out for you, you know."

He looked skeptical.

"You and he are very alike."

"How so?"

"You are both far too intelligent and stubborn for your own good."

It was his turn to laugh.

"So, you still think I should be envied?"

"Maybe. 95 people out of a hundred on a day like today would be out, oblivious to their surroundings, and they would be worried about all the things they need to do, how they could have done things differently. You can be here, enjoying the sun and the breeze, and be completely in the moment."

Watching the breeze dance around her hair, he could believe her. Almost.

"But what happens after the moment has passed, Ruth?"

"You find another moment."


	3. Chapter 3

It was late afternoon, and Jo looked across the Grid and considered her friend carefully. She knew she went to see Harry everyday and then came back to finish up more paperwork. Despite her busy schedule, Ruth looked well, although she could tell that something was troubling her.

"Ruth, would you like to grab a drink? Before you go see Harry, I mean?"

It took a bit of convincing, but eventually Jo and Ruth found themselves in a quiet corner of the pub down the street.

"So, what's bothering you? Is it Harry?"

"You don't beat about the bush."

"Well, I didn't think you had time for subtlety."

"I'm just worried about him, that's all. He's getting so frustrated and it's hard to sit back and watch and not be able to do anything about it."

"But you are doing something – I'm sure you are a comfort to him."

"He's starting to give up, I think. Not that he would ever admit it, but the fight's gone."

"What does the doctor say?"

"He's still optimistic, but then he has to be, doesn't he? I don't know…It's just.."

"Hard to think of the Grid without Harry? Absolutely." The younger spook grinned before continuing,

"Well, if anyone's going to get Harry to fight back, it's you, Ruth."

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

Harry was in an absolute bloody mood. It had been nearly two weeks since he had made any progress remembering anything. His head was pounding, and he had tried, with varying success, to quell the rising panic attack within him. The attacks were getting more insistent, and he could tell that it worried Collins. Ruth had called earlier in the day to say that she couldn't come this evening. It was just as well, since he wasn't sure he could keep his temper tonight. He had worked out that she must be a spy too, but that was more a matter of deduction as opposed to a recovered memory. He was much more concerned with the fact that he couldn't work out what they were to each other.

He sat outside in the dwindling sunshine; Ruth had managed to commandeer a pair of chairs from somewhere the last time she was there, and he tried for the umpteenth time that day to clear his mind.

The skyline of London was before him. He was on a rooftop somewhere near the river, and he was nervous about something. Then Ruth appeared, talking about some work…arms dealers maybe? He was paying more attention to her eyes than anything else.

"Would you like to have dinner sometime?" No going back from that.

"That was presumptuous, I might have said 'No'." _Might._

That was it. He sighed. Was that a memory or a cruel joke his subconscious was playing on him? He filed the scene away in his brain, in the hopes that later he could revisit it and tease out another detail or two.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

"I think it's time we push the envelope a little bit." The doctor said.

"If you say, "think outside the box", I'm leaving," Harry announced and Ruth smiled.

The three were in the doctor's office. Harry hadn't been doing as well as he would like, and something slightly drastic might be called for. He knew that Harry wasn't very forthcoming with him, especially about Ruth – he had been in this profession long enough to know when his patients were holding out on him.

"Harry, I think you're ready to leave the clinic for awhile. Just a day or two, to see how it goes. I think a week-end with Ruth is just the thing."

Ruth had already talked to Collins, and knew what he was going to suggest. She wasn't entirely thrilled with the prospect for a variety of reasons, but conceded that a change of scene with someone he was comfortable with certainly couldn't hurt. She hadn't quite anticipated Harry's reaction, though.

"Out of the question." It was his best "Grid authority" voice.

"Harry…"

"It would be an imposition."

"Harry, it's fine, really. As long as you don't mind running some errands with me on Saturday."

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

"Any big plans for the weekend?"

Ruth had been acting odd all day and Adam couldn't help but wonder why.

"Not really…Harry's coming over." She knew she shouldn't have opened her mouth. Everyone stopped what they were doing and gaped at her.

"But that's good, isn't it?" Malcolm asked.

"The doctor thinks a change of scene will do him good."

"And you can do the Florence Nightingale routine on him, too." Zaf joked, and was rewarded by with a hard punch to his upper arm by Jo.

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The closer she got to the clinic, the more nervous she became. This was worse than their dinner date. This was a whole weekend with a man she was very conflicted about. And Zaf's reaction had brought to the surface one of her fears – what did Harry expect of her? She kept trying to tell herself that this was Harry, memory or no, and that if he was anything, he was a gentleman and… _Damn. Why is everything between us so difficult? _

They were mostly silent and awkward on the way to Ruth's. Harry seemed to know his way around the city, but there was nothing personal associated with his landmarks. _It's ridiculous; I can navigate my way around one the world's capitals, but I can't figure out the woman sitting beside me._

"Thank you, Ruth, for this. You didn't have to do this."

"It's fine, really."

"And your boyfriend is OK with this?"

She looked over at him to see if he was putting one over on her or not. He seemed sincerely concerned.

"There's no boyfriend, Harry."

"I'm sorry."

She was suddenly irritated.

"Why be sorry? I suppose you think a single woman is someone to be pitied?"

"I said nothing of the sort_." _But something in his heart leapt at the thought that she was unattached.

"No, it was implied."

He was silent for awhile.

"Ruth, I'm sorry…for prying into your private life. And I don't care who you are with or not as the case may be, as long as you're happy, I am happy. Truce?"

"Truce. But come to think of it…why didn't you think I was married?"

"Oh Ruth, that's too easy." He tapped her left hand that was on the steering wheel.

"Have I been here before?"

"I don't think I'm allowed to answer that one."

"Oh bugger Collins. I'm on furlough."

"What do you think?"

"I think this house is very you, although if you were to press me on it, I couldn't tell you why. I would like to think I'm here all the time, but I know that what I would like to happen and what actually occurs are often two very different things."

_He would like to think he's here all the time?_ She decided to step into the breach.

"How much do you remember, truly?"

"I have no idea. Everything in my head…it's more impressions than anything else. A bit of conversation, a snapshot of a location. I have no reference point, so nothing's fitting together. And with you…" he faltered for a moment, worried that he was saying too much. After a moment, he continued,

"…it's complicated."

"How so?" she was amazed the words made it past the lump lodged in her throat.

"How does one know what is a memory or what is just wishful thinking?"

_She's blushing. I've said far too much. But God, that blush…_


	4. Chapter 4

"What are you in the mood for for dinner? We could go out, but if you'd rather stay in, we need to do some shopping because we have nothing in the pantry."

He tried to ignore the fact that she used "we".

"I don't mind, either way."

Shopping turned into a bit of an adventure. Harry, who had very little idea what kinds of food he liked or didn't like, tended to want to buy everything. Ruth very nearly had a heart attack when the cashier rang up the purchases. They could be snowed in for a week, and they wouldn't go hungry. On the way back, they passed a wine merchant, and he nipped in before she could protest. A few minutes later, he came out with a bag large enough for at least two bottles of wine.

"To go with our lovely dinner," he explained.

"You haven't tasted my cooking yet."

"In that case, we may need this even more," he teased.

Harry was an able assistant in the kitchen, and Ruth enjoyed herself over dinner. They talked a lot about literature and music. He bitterly lamented that he could quote poetry but had no idea what his full name was until someone told him. The meal long over with, they sat enjoying the wine. Ruth had been surprised when she pulled it out of the bag – Harry had bought white burgundy, and a very good one at that. Her surprise must have registered on her face, because he immediately asked,

"Is that OK?"

"Sure_._"_ Maybe he's remembering more than he thinks he does. Or he could just like white burgundy_.

"Penny for your thoughts."

"Just that this is much better than being at the clinic."

"I'll take that as a compliment."

"Please do."

He was looking at her, trying to focus the thoughts that were flying around in his head. She blushed again, and he apologized.

"It's just sometimes, everything is just out of reach."

"You shouldn't try to force it."

He pouted.

"Sorry. You must hear that all the time."

"You're absolutely right. I'm just not very patient. Don't laugh. I can see you're not at all surprised by _that_ revelation."

"Oh, Harry. You're the same person. Just because you don't know facts and figures doesn't change that."

"There are a few facts that I'd give quite a lot to know right now."

She started blushing again, and he headed towards the sink and to do the washing up.

"Don't do that."

"No, it's the least I can do. Sit and finish your wine."

It was late, and they were sitting in the living room. One of Ruth's cats had immediately jumped onto Harry's lap and started to purr. They had good-naturedly continued their debate.

"But I thought spies likes facts, Ruth."

"Yes, but not exclusively. Sometimes you have to go with your instincts…"

They sat in companionable silence for awhile.

"I'm sorry about our argument in the car, earlier. I overreacted. It's just that my mother tends to get on my nerves…"

"Why haven't you settled down yet?"

"Exactly."

"What does your father say about it?" Her eyes clouded over, and Harry feared he had said the wrong thing.

"He died when I was eleven."

"I'm very sorry."

Now it was Ruth's turn to be concerned as the look on Harry's face changed.

"What is it?"

When he finally answered, his voice was barely above a whisper.

"Do I have any family, Ruth? Is anyone missing me?"

She swallowed hard. _Bugger Collins and his rules._ She wasn't sure how much she should tell him.

"You are divorced. You have a daughter and a son. Catherine lives abroad, and Graham is…I don't know. Your mother died while you were at University, but I think your father is still alive. You've never mentioned him, though."

He tried to take it all in. It saddened him that it had been over two weeks since the explosion and as far as he knew, none of those that Ruth mentioned were worried about him. He suddenly hated himself. _What did I do to drive my own children away?_

"Harry, spy you may be, but not everything is within your control."

"Thank you."

"We should probably try and get some sleep."

"Right."

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

"I've got some extra towels here and…"

She stopped in her tracks when she saw him through the partially open door of her spare room. He had changed into dark blue pajama bottoms but was struggling with his t-shirt. She had forgotten about his shoulder. The right side of his torso was covered in still angry-looking bruises of greenish yellow.

"Here, let me." She helped him get his arm through the sleeve. He was surprised to find a tear starting to form in the corner of her eye.

"It's alright, Ruth. It's more stiff than painful. Usually my head's pounding so much. I forget about all the rest entirely."

"Good night, Harry."

"Good night, Ruth. I don't know what I would do without you." Then he gently brushed away the tear with his thumb and kissed her softly on the forehead.

_**Go on, push the button, you know you want to leave a review!**_


	5. Chapter 5

Sun streamed through a gap in Ruth's bedroom curtains. She was comfortable and content in a way that is only possible when one can have a leisurely lie-in on a Saturday morning. As her mind woke up, though, panic gripped her. _Surely I didn't drink that much last night?_

"Harry?"

"Mmm?" His warm breath tickled the back of her neck.

"Harry! _Why_ are you in my bed?"

It took him a few seconds to shake off sleep and have her words register in his mind. When they did, he jumped out of bed as if electrocuted.

"I'm so sorry, Ruth!" She wasn't entirely sure if she was relieved or disappointed to find that the both of them were still in their respective pajamas.

"What…?"

"You were having a nightmare…and I came in…and I must have fallen asleep…"

When he realized she wasn't going to do him bodily harm, he gingerly sat on the edge of the bed. She looked sideways at him, then seeing his panicked face, burst into a fit of giggles.

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"Thank you, Harry. That omelet was delicious."

"You're welcome. It's the least I can do after this morning." He grinned at her.

"I'm sorry…about disturbing you last night."

"It's alright. I do understand a little bit about the burden of an unruly subconscious, you know."

"How did you sleep, otherwise?"

"Like a log, thank you." He decided it was better not to go into too much detail about that.

"So, what do you have planned for today?" he asked.

They did some errands, and a bit of window-shopping before taking a walk along the Embankment. It was another beautiful spring day and Ruth thought that some familiar surroundings might nudge a memory for Harry. They passed what she usually thought of as "their" bench, without reaction from him. Not long after, though, he suddenly stopped and swore under his breath.

"Harry?"

He looked all around, then angrily strode forward a few paces, and then back to Ruth. His face was the embodiment of sadness and frustration.

"It's gone. There was something…for a split second…"

They lingered there for awhile, but nothing resurfaced. She hooked her arm through his as they stood watching the sunlight dance on the river. She hated feeling helpless, but there was nothing she could do for him.

"Are you getting hungry, Ruth?"

"Hmm. I rather think I am."

Back at Ruth's, they had a late lunch, and Harry amused himself with perusing Ruth's bookshelves. Her tastes were varied, and Harry stopped counting the number of languages represented after about five. He was pleased to discover that he could understand the French and German ones at least. She had just finished clearing up from lunch, and was going to ask Harry if he would like a cup of tea, when the sight from the kitchen doorway stopped her and made her heart turn over. There was Harry, bolt upright on the couch, cat on lap, book in hand, and fast asleep. She knew from Dr. Collins that Harry hadn't been sleeping well, so she was glad of this opportunity for him to get some rest. Ever so slowly, she took the book from his hands, and put a blanket around his shoulders before tiptoeing out of the room.

He was feeling rather smug with himself, despite having two people in front of him with guns drawn. The room around him was chaos – wires out of the ceiling, holes in walls, desks askew. The now-familiar voice of Ruth comes from out of the shadows somewhere behind him.

"You bastard." She says.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

Harry woke up, and it took him a good minute or two to figure out where he was. He rubbed his face, and went in search of Ruth. He found his hostess at the table, with a half-drunk cup of tea, writing in a journal.

"Hi."

"You're up." _He's quite adorable when his hair is ruffled._

"I'm sorry…"

"Don't apologize. You needed the rest. Tea?"

"Yes, please."

And suddenly for the first time that he can remember, he's more concerned with his future than with his lost past.

"Let me take you out tonight."

He thought he knew a good place to take her; he panicked slightly that maybe he had misremembered, but then he figured that they are in London, and it's not as if they couldn't find another restaurant. Dinner went well, although Harry sensed that Ruth was a bit nervous about it at first. Harry asked her about the languages, and is stunned by her answer.

"No wonder you became a spy then."

"It was either that or academia."

"Are you ever tempted to give it up?"

She considered her answer.

"I'd be lying if I said I didn't sometimes, but I really can't picture myself doing anything else, despite the sacrifices." She thought of the night not too long ago when they all thought Harry was gone.

"It's far too early to go home."

She tried to ignore that he said "home."

"What did you have in mind?" she asked cautiously.

"Do you trust me?"

"Usually. Why?"

He was irrationally happy at her answer.

"You'll see."

They went dancing. She had been reluctant at first, but the glint in his eyes challenged her, and she was never one to back down from a challenge.

"Harry, do you dance?"

"I've no idea, but there's only one way to find out!"

He actually was a very good dancer, and Ruth found herself having more fun than she had in ages. Her nerves were eased by the fact that he didn't take himself too seriously. It was apparent very quickly that neither could tango, but that didn't prevent them from trying. _Her eyes light up when she smiles_, he thought. She suddenly went all stiff in his arms and said in a very quiet and serious tone,

"Let's go home."

Ruth replaced the slip of paper in the doorframe as she closed the door behind them. Turning around, she wasn't surprised to see him still close behind. They had barely spoken on the way home, and there was a tension between them that was impossible to ignore. Without a word, his lips found hers. The kiss was soft and gentle, and her hands roamed up his chest and found their way to the back of his neck, pulling him closer. He sighed, and pulled away slightly.

"Ruth, I think this is a bad idea." He playfully sucked on her lower lip.

"Hmm….horrible…" She kissed him harder as one hand undid a button on his shirt.

"…Complicate things…" His lips worked their way down the side of her neck.

"Absolutely…" Another button down.

Her mobile started ringing shrilly. It was a red flash.

"I need to take this."

"Of course." He kept her pinned to the back of the door.

"Ruth, it's Malcolm. How's Harry?" She felt him smile into her neck.

"F-Fine. What is it?"

"I'm sorry but we need you, we've just had a coded bomb threat come in."

"I'm on my way."

Malcolm thought it best not to ask Ruth why she seemed out of breath.


	6. Chapter 6

It had been a long twelve hours on the Grid. Ruth was still waiting for some files to come over from GCHQ. They had managed to locate the bomb in time; it turned out the trigger malfunctioned and poor Zaf was sulking, having been denied the credit of disarming a bomb. She needed some air, so went up to the rooftop. She heard the door open behind her, and for a split second thought it would be Harry until she realized that that was impossible. Malcolm stood beside her and handed her a cup of tea.

"Thought you might like this."

"Thanks."

"How are you?"

"Fine."

"Really?"

She looked at her friend.

"What makes you say that?"

"You look exhausted, Ruth. We're all worried about you…and Harry, of course."

"It's OK…complicated, but OK."

"I just don't want you to get hurt. You're both very vulnerable and…"

"He's the one who has lost his past."

"But you're the one who's been writhing in guilt that you turned him down when you could've gone to the Embassy with him. Just promise me that you will take care of yourself, too."

"I will." She smiled.

"So, how is he, really?"

"He has his moments." She couldn't help but remember the taste of his lips. She continued,

"He's getting very frustrated, but I think he remembers more than he thinks he does."

"Why don't you head home? Those files can wait until tomorrow." Malcolm gave her a little hug.

"And make sure you tell him from me to stop faking it and get back to work."

It was strange to be heading home to someone other than her cat, no matter how beloved. The house was quiet. _He must still be asleep. Good, he needs the rest._ She was contemplating lunch when she saw the letter on the table and her heart sank.

_Ruth,_

_ I wasn't sure how long you'd be gone, so I fed the cat. I also fixed that drawer in the kitchen that was sticking. Your mother called this morning – I answered the' phone without thinking. No doubt she'll have lots of questions for you – I'm sorry. It seems I've done nothing but apologize to you lately. I'm more grateful than you will ever know for these last few weeks. Last night – how do I begin? I miss you in my arms. I have no regrets whatsoever, although I suppose it's probably for the best that we were interrupted. I still have a lot to work out, and it would be unfair of me to burden you with more when you've already done so much. There are few things that I am certain of, but one of them is I could not bear it if I hurt you. It's quite miserable here without you, so I've decided to go and start facing things I've been too afraid to do until now. I'll come and see you as soon as I can, if I may, assuming bloody Collins lets me out again. _

_ Yours,_

_ Harry x._

She read the note over about ten times. As much as she hated to admit it, he was right. They could scarcely get their act together under normal circumstances, now was not the time to be jumping into bed, no matter how pleasurable that might be. She couldn't help but worry, though.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

A nurse unceremoniously flopped down unto a couch in the staff lounge at the clinic.

"Stay clear of Mr. Pearce today, if you can."

"Why? He's usually such a dear."

"You only say that because you fancy him."

"Well, if I do, I'm not alone. Anyway, what's going on?"

"I don't know, but when he's not in having shouting matches with the doctor, he's pacing around his room, looking like he could spit nails."

Harry was, in fact, feeling very bloody. On leaving Ruth's, he had a plan in his head but Collins was being uncooperative. He felt helpless, and he had the feeling that this was an unnatural state for him. He had been as forthright as possible with the doctor, trying to explain the unexplainable. How he loved Ruth, no matter how mad and impossible it seemed. And how if he wasn't going to recover, he wanted to just draw a line under his life as it was right now, and start again, with her. But Collins didn't want to give up; told him to be patient, and had the audacity to suggest that what he felt was gratitude, not love. As if that fear hadn't crossed his mind every time his heart leapt at the unexpected sight of her these last few weeks. His head roared.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

It was Wednesday, and Ruth knew it was irrational but had half-expected to see Harry on her doorstep every day that week. She had tried calling him earlier in the day, but neither receptionist she talked to was very forthcoming about Harry's condition or whereabouts. She was debating with herself whether she should go home or to the clinic first, when the DG came in through the pods.

"Ruth, I'm glad you're still here. Can I have a word?"

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

They were sitting in the rather cheerless visiting room, saying little to each other at first. Her fears were realized when she saw the frustration in his eyes when she arrived. She seemed to him quite angry.

"The DG came to see me today. He says you want to come back to work already." _That explains it_, he thought.

"I have to pay the bills somehow, Ruth." He ventured a smile, but her expression was immovable.

"What else can I do? Pick up another career at my age? My current memory is fine. It will take me awhile to re-memorize the protocols, but…"

"Harry…" He was surprised to see her trying to hold back a tear.

"What is it?" his voice soft and low.

"What if…" she couldn't complete her sentence.

"…I got myself blown up again?" The tear had broken loose and he took her gently in his arms.

"Oh, Ruth. I suppose I'm taking no greater risk than anyone else in the Services, including _you_."

"Harry, you had asked me to go to the Embassy with you, and I said 'no'."

"I don't think I've ever been so glad that I was rejected." She felt him smile into her hair.

They were silent for awhile, still embracing.

"Harry, Dr. Collins is due in any minute."

"Bugger Collins." She felt him tense up at the name.

"What's happened?"

"I went to my house today." She pulled away from him to look into his eyes.

"It was awful, Ruth. I was in a stranger's house. It was foolish of me to hope for a breakthrough…

"Harry, it's never foolish to hope."

"I'm going to hold you to that." He smiled again, and she felt oddly relieved.


	7. Chapter 7

It had been a hellish few days on the Grid and Ruth was exhausted. Her last decent meal was a distant memory and she was looking forward to being home and if she stayed awake long enough, a nice hot bath. When her phone rang, she was very tempted to not answer it until she saw the name of the caller.

"Doctor?"

"Ruth. Harry wouldn't be with you, by any chance?"

"No. Why?"

"We can't seem to locate him, and he was supposed to see me this afternoon."

"Shall I…?"

"No. Don't worry about it. I'm sure he'll turn up. Have a good evening." He failed to sound convincing.

_Not bloody likely._ She was a curious mix of emotions. She was worried, of course, but she was also very angry. _What the hell was he playing at?_ Surely he must know that if he was going to recover anything at all, he needed Dr. Collins. She thought of simply continuing home, but she realized that there was no way she would be able to rest.

Harry had been back to work for nearly two weeks now, and it had been awkward between them. She found it hard to not to think of how it felt kissing him. There had been little opportunity to talk; he was in and out of meetings most of the time. Juliet seemed to be on the Grid a lot more often now that Harry was back, which put everyone, including Harry she thought, on edge. Ruth had a little pang when she saw him walk through the pods for the first time – it was strange to see him in a suit and tie; she had gotten used to his open-necked shirts and jeans. He was meant to be back on a part-time basis, but she knew he was there longer than he was supposed to be most days and it worried her.

Ruth started down the Embankment. If he wasn't here, she had a pub or two she could try, but after that, she was at a loss. She wondered about the repercussions of just putting a tracker on the bloody man. It was twilight and she was bone weary, and by the time she could distinguish his silhouette on the bench ahead, anger had trumped panic. If he had seen her approach, he made no acknowledgement of it. Without a word or a glance, she sat on the opposite end of the bench.

"Spare me the lecture, Ruth." His voice is ragged.

"Forgive me for caring. I can see now I shouldn't have bothered." She wants to leave, but something other than exhaustion keeps her there. They are silent for awhile, each radiating anger and frustration. She finally looks over at him, and she can see a faint track of a tear down his face.

"What is it all about, Harry?"

"What do you think?" he asks harshly. He finally looks over at her, but she's looked away again.

He sighs. This is not how he wanted things to be, but his emotions are as confused and jumbled as his head has been. He's trying to find the right words when her anger shatters the silence.

"What are you going to do, wallow in self-pity? Just give up and bugger to anyone else?" She takes two steps away when his words, barely above a whisper, stop her.

"I've thought about it."

"What?" A chill runs through her heart.

"Giving up…It wouldn't be that difficult, really. Hell, the river's right there. Who would miss me? My children hate me; my father has Alzheimer's and doesn't even know who I am. And you…" He looked at her. Her eyes were riveted to the ground.

"…haven't even looked me in the eyes since I went back to work." She is crying silently now, and he curses himself. He moves towards her to take her in his arms, but before he can do that, she punches him in the chest, several times…hard.

"Don't you dare!"

He stands there dumbly. He expects her to walk away, and is very confused when she doesn't. He takes a deep breath.

"I'm in a farmhouse and a shotgun is pointed at me. Although I should be, I'm not scared. Just disappointed. The gun goes off, and the pain is unbelievable. I think I'm dying, and all I want to do is to see your face again."

She is still crying, but for the first time that evening, their eyes meet. He's breathing like he's been running.

"What else do you remember?"

"Not much more. You were right, Ruth. There are some things I wish I didn't remember. But I still don't know anything about my children, and it bothers me very much that I still don't know how we met."

They are silent for a long time. When he does speak, his voice is barely above a whisper.

"Why did you say 'no'…when I asked you to the Embassy?"

"I was afraid."

"Of what?"

"Everything. Getting hurt. Hurting you. Being _that_ woman." She felt foolish after all that's happened admitting how much she was affected by potential office gossip. She bit her lip, and he ventured closer to brush a tear off her cheek, and she put her head on his shoulder. He thought his heart would pound out of chest.

"Forgive me, Ruth…I'm a stubborn, selfish bastard and I wouldn't blame you if you dumped me in the river yourself." He felt rather than heard her laugh a little, and his heart lightened.

"Harry, I need you to promise me something."

"What's that?"

"Let someone help you. You can't go through this all by yourself."

"Collins just wants to write a paper about me."

"What difference does that make, if he helps you recover?" She reflexively put her hands out, stroking either side of his face. He closed his eyes at her touch and suddenly he knew that he didn't need his past to know that he had never felt like this about anyone in his life. For the first time he's realized that she is just as terrified as he is, and he's ashamed that it's taken him this long to figure it out.

"You're freezing, Ruth. Would you…come to mine? I can make dinner – I know where everything is now."

He's afraid that he asked too much and she'll bolt, until he saw the hint of a smile on her face.

"Only if you talk to Collins first."

He held out his hand, and she put her phone into his palm.

_**Author's Note: Thank you very much for all the kind reviews. I apologize for taking so long to update – I had a very boring, bad alternate version of this chapter mostly done, and then I got sick. Took a bit of time to totally rework the way this was headed and to get to the point where I could breathe through my nostrils again! I would love more reviews!**_


	8. Chapter 8

It's the fourth night in a row that he's been awakened by the sound of his own voice, screaming. He probably wouldn't be so shaken if these were merely nightmares, but he's been at this long enough now to know that these are fragments of memories, coming to the surface. He's learning, for the most part, to distinguish between his past and his imagination and it frightens him that what he's actually lived through so far has been much worse than most of what his subconscious can come up with. It's a warm night, but he's shivering, his body clammy with sweat. It's a little after three in the morning, but he knows there's no point in trying to get back to sleep, so he stumbles into the shower. The water is as hot as he can stand, and as its streams down over his head, he tries unsuccessfully to clear his mind. The hypnosis has unlocked some things, but the cascading images rarely have any context, and it takes a great deal of effort make sense out of anything.

Inevitably, his thoughts turn to Ruth. Things between them are getting better, albeit slowly. She is at least not actively avoiding him at work now, although their conversations are still awkward. More than once she has made excuses for not being able to have dinner with him. He is under no illusions about his chances; he's older, not terribly fit, and the fact that he can't remember why he's still single is probably not a mark in his favour. But he still can't shake the image of her face when she came to see him at the clinic that first time, or the fact she was definitely kissing him back that night at her house. He hasn't pushed even though there have been days when it seems the only thing that will calm the roar in his head is her presence. He knows he could easily start to put an unfair burden on her, and he's determined not to use her as a crutch.

Having used up the hot water, he towels himself off, gets dressed, and has a leisurely breakfast. It's been a few weeks now, but he's still getting used to his house. He's reconciled himself to his surroundings and has figured out where everything is, but it still feels like he's living in someone else's place. Nothing is even remotely familiar. There are two safes upstairs that he has no idea how to open. He thought about asking the DG about them, but then thought better of it in case the contents were better off not being part of the "official" records. Everything is very neat and tidy, which makes him suspect that he's not there very often. Either that, or he has a very good housekeeper. The randomness of his CD collection amuses and surprises him. He had hoped to find some of Ruth's things about, but there is no evidence anywhere of any woman having been there in a long time. His is very much a bachelor's house and this saddens him somewhat.

A furry little terrier demands his attention, and he is glad for the distraction from his thoughts. It's very easy to get maudlin lately and wonders, in an academic kind of way, if he's usually like that. Having fed the dog, Harry takes her out for a nice, long walk. It's still absurdly early, and he's not sure how late he'll be in the evening.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

The morning briefing is mercifully uneventful, and Harry thinks he may just make it through the day without catastrophe. He catches Ruth's eye as he heads towards his office, and she looks worried.

"What is it?"

"What do you mean?"

"You're worried about something. It didn't take me long to figure out that I should trust your instincts. If you are worried, then everyone needs to worry. So…?"

"I'm not sure. When I have a better idea, I'll let you know."

"OK."

They hold their gaze a little longer than strictly necessary, until the whirr of the pods jolted them both back into the present, but not before Juliet Shaw noticed.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

"Do you have a minute?" Ruth asks before he has a chance to even acknowledge her entering his office.

"Of course."

"Not here."

_She's found out something._ Without another word, he follows her up to the roof, the scene that he so often sees in his head. Where Ruth is concerned he's never entirely sure of his memories, but he's certain they've met here often before. Looking at the view, he's not surprised. All of London seems spread out before them. She's beautiful against the skyline, and it takes a great deal of concentration to bend his mind around to the reason she brought him up here.

"You have a meeting with Oliver Mace this afternoon."

"That's not unusual, surely?"

"Not as such, but something's not right, Harry."

"And you think that the JIC Chairman has something to do with it?"

"Maybe not, I just don't know. Him wanting a meeting with you, one on one, right now with all this Cotterdam stuff in the news makes me nervous."

"You think he'll take advantage of my…condition…somehow?"

"He's an unscrupulous, scheming bastard who gives me the creeps…"

"Not everyone can be as charming as I am, Ruth."

"Just be careful, Harry, is all I'm saying. Please."

As he watched her turn and leave, the only thought dominating his mind was that she hadn't contradicted him when he said he was charming.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

Harry was just finishing up putting the wire in his coat when Jo knocked on his door.

"Can I have a word?"

"Sure. What's on your mind?"

Jo quickly glanced out to the Grid, and satisfied with what she saw, said,

"We're planning a little party for Ruth next week, for her birthday."

"Thursday."

"You remember?"

"No," he looked crestfallen by his own admission, "but I have managed to read everyone's personnel files since coming back."

"Of course."

Jo had one foot out the door when Harry called her back.

"Jo? You wouldn't happen to know what I got her for a present last year, would you?"

"No. But I could try to find out, if you like."

"That would be helpful, thanks."

_**Author's note: Sorry to take so long to update – real life has been intruding quite a lot lately…I hope people are still enjoying this…I would be very grateful for a review!**_


	9. Chapter 9

"So, Harry, how are you doing these days?"

"Other than the odd headache, I'm doing fine, Oliver."

"Good, good. We were all surprised you came back to work so soon."

"Well, one has to pay the bills somehow."

"Quite."

Mace smirked as he sipped his scotch. _Ruth was right_, Harry thought, _I don't trust this man as far as I can throw him._ They talked a bit longer in generalities, sitting in the deep leather chairs of the club. Over cigars, Harry had the distinct impression that Mace was trying to figure out exactly how much he couldn't remember. It was risky, but Harry decided to let on that on work matters he was perfectly fine and remembered more than he did; he thought it a bad idea to let Mace think he would have an upper hand in anything. He promised himself that the first thing he was going to do on returning to Thames House was to go over Mace's files with a fine tooth comb.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

When Harry left Mace and went back to the Grid he at all wasn't surprised to see Ruth still there, despite the lateness of the hour. He couldn't help but feel reassured somehow. There was something familiar in the soft glow of her lamp, the curve of her spine as she read the files on her desk. In his mind, he tried to hold on to that familiarity but like most other impressions, it was tantalizingly close before slipping away. He was about to offer her a lift home when he spied Juliet in his office. He swore under his breath, and Ruth smiled at him. _Poor man never seems to get any rest_, she thought.

Juliet was pleasantly surprised by how well Harry seemed to be coping with coming back to work. Perhaps because of or in spite of their past, she still had a bit of a soft spot for him and couldn't help but worry just a bit. Although there were times that having no memory would be enviable for a spook, she couldn't imagine it to be a very pleasant feeling for the long-term. Harry was bloody good at his job, and she didn't want to have to deal with the fallout if he went to pieces because of this whole situation. In consequence, she could be found on the Grid much more often than in the past.

"Juliet."

"Harry. How are you?"

"Fine. Should I be otherwise?"

"No. Just checking in."

He sat behind his desk, a little heavily. Harry wondered at the complexities of the human mind. He knew from reading his personnel file that he and Juliet had an affair years ago and yet he remembered nothing about her before she showed up at the clinic. He wondered vaguely about how their relationship was before he lost his memory. Were they friends? The break must have been amiable enough for them to be able to work together or…? He felt the beginnings of a headache creeping in, and he was hardly in the mood to do much of anything other than have a large drink and sleep.

"Forgive me if I seem paranoid, but I've just spent the better part of this afternoon assuring various people that I am fine."

"Just be careful, Harry, is all I'm saying. Any news about the threats to the PM?"

"Nothing new since this afternoon. Adam and Zaf have been working on a few leads, and Jo is looking into the security measures for next week's meeting. We should have a better idea by tomorrow."

"Good. Well, have a good night, Harry."

With Juliet gone, Harry looked out onto the Grid. Ruth had gone.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

"Ready for some serious drinking tonight, Ruth?" Zaf asked.

"If today continues the way it has been, absolutely."

It had been a hectic day even by Grid standards and if it hadn't been for the flowers on her desk, she may have completely forgotten that today was her birthday at all. Barring any terrorist threats, a surprise party was planned for that evening in the George. Ruth had found out about it days ago, but didn't have the heart to break the news to Jo. She idly wondered if Harry would be there tonight. He had been particularly scarce today; she hadn't even had a chance to thank him for the flowers. Soon after this thought, the man himself came through the pods. He was looking particularly fragile, and without a word or glance, went into his office. Armed with some files, Ruth followed.

"Are you alright?" A pang of worry shot through her as she looked at him.

He rubbed his forehead a bit more before answering.

"Yes. It's just…I think the JIC muddles my head more than a session with Dr. Collins." He smiled, and she was relieved, somewhat.

"Happy Birthday, by the way," he continued.

"Thank you. The flowers are lovely, Harry."

"I'm glad you like them."

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

"That went well." It was late and Jo and Zaf were walking back from Ruth's party towards the Thames House car park.

"Yes, it did. I'm re-opening up the Ruth and Harry book." Zaf announced.

"What?"

"Come on, you saw them this evening. Until he showed up, she kept her eyes on the door and he never left her side all evening. She blushed at his present."

"She blushed opening everyone's presents. That's just how Ruth is – not liking to be the center of attention. It _was_ a nice present, though…"

"A journal?"

"This is Ruth we're talking about, Zaf. She's not likely to be impressed with conventional things, is she? Besides, a journal like that wasn't cheap."

"You're just proving my point."

"Well, Harry's an amnesiac, not an idiot." They laughed.

"We could always give him a little nudge…" Zaf wondered aloud.

"What do you mean?"

"I could ask Ruth out and then Harry would have to…"

"Is this before or after he sends you to Siberia?" It was Malcolm's voice. He had just caught them up.

"We just want to see them happy." Jo answered.

"I know. But Harry's got a lot on his plate at the moment, don't you think? It'll probably take awhile, but they'll sort it out. Trust me, just leave them be."

_**Author's Note: Sorry for the long wait and the shortish chapter. More coming soon, I promise! **_


	10. Chapter 10

It's three days after her thirty-somethingth birthday and Ruth finds herself in possibly the worst MI-5 safehouse in history. She's trying to keep herself together as she tries to make some tea. The kettle looks like it would just as likely burn the place down as heat water, so she keeps an eye on it as she picks out the beaker with the least amount of chips in it. She jumps when she hears the door below.

"Ruth, it's me." Zaf's voice drifts up the stairs. She's disappointed it's not him, but then immediately berates herself for being ungrateful. Everyone is risking a great deal for her right now and she has no right to be so churlish. He's brought groceries, a radio, some magazines, and a book. It's Jane Austen's _Persuasion._

"Harry picked that out."

She smiled a bit. It was the book she had been reading when Harry found her on the bus that time he was suspended; he was pretty good at remembering without remembering.

"How is he?"

"I think Malcolm and Adam have managed to convince him to not murder Mace, at least not just yet. He's doing all he can."

"I know. Tell him…" Here she couldn't hold back a tear, and Zaf gave her a big hug.

"It's going to be OK, you know. Just a bit of time to get things sorted."

"I know."

"I need to get going."

"Alright. Zaf, tell him there is no way he was at that meeting. If you have to remind him every five minutes, do it."

She tried to read for awhile, but her heart wasn't in it. Her analyst brain was picking apart all that had happened in the last few hours (although it seemed like days) to put her in her current situation. She had witnessed a man commit suicide by jumping in front of train. It couldn't be a coincidence that that stranger turned out to be Mik Maudlsley, Head of Security for Southeast Prisons who decided to kill himself the day the report was issued about the deadly fire at Cotterdam prison. She had followed her instincts, picked at the threads until the knot had unraveled, but not before catching her up in those threads as well. She and Adam had found the document Maudsley had meant for her to find, but not before she found herself with a murder charge hanging over her head and Harry aglow with fury.

She kept replaying the scene in her head: everyone in the section, bundled against the cold in the middle of a car park. Harry had ordered "doghouse" so they could regroup away from the prying eyes and ears of the JIC. Luckily, the fact that she had slipped her house arrest had not been detected yet. She and Adam told the team about the memo they had found; Harry wouldn't meet her eye.

"So someone from this section sanctioned this torture?" Malcolm bristled.

"No, that was just put in there to prevent us from going public." Adam answered.

The look on Harry's face was making Ruth more and more nervous.

"Harry," Ruth said, "you were not at that meeting."

It suddenly occurred to the rest of them that while they could take for granted that Harry wasn't there, but because of his amnesia he didn't have that luxury.

"How do you know?"

"I know. There is no way that you would be there, and let this happen."

"What do we do then?"

"Surely we have to release this and damn the consequences." Jo answered.

"And have Ruth thrown to the wolves?" Harry snapped.

"We can sort that out later, but in the meantime, we have to put this forward." Ruth said.

"We put this forward, and there is no later for you." It was as if no one else was present.

"We can't let them get away with this, Harry. We both know that."

He wasn't shying away from her gaze now.

"This memo gets released. I'll say I was at the meeting. I may have been, anyway…"

"No, you weren't."

"Prove it…I'll say I'm Fox, and I'll take down as many of those bastards as I can."

"You can't do that, Harry. If anyone needs to stick around and fight against this it's you. If you are gone, who will be able to prevent this from happening all the time? I'll say I'm Fox, and…"

"I'm your boss. You killed Maudsley, but I told you to…"

"Harry…" She's on the verge of tears.

"May I make a suggestion?" Malcolm interrupted. He continued,

"Whatever Mace has cooked up to frame Ruth, we can undo it, with enough time."

"We don't have time!" Harry's patience was wearing very thin, to Malcolm's peril.

"We would if Ruth were to disappear for a few days…"

Harry considered. She could tell that he was still troubled about the meeting and the possibility that he was part of this plan to torture prisoners. He looked at Ruth, then Malcolm, then back to Ruth again. He sighed, and put his hands deep in his overcoat pockets.

Within minutes, Adam had whisked her away to this safehouse, and the last image she had of Harry was of him giving lengthy orders to Jo and Zaf, head bowed and eyes fixed on the ground.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

It was dark now, and she was getting hungry. She was about to find the switch that belonged to the bare bulb hanging from the ceiling when a sound from downstairs stopped her in her tracks. She thought she heard the door; but there was no friendly greeting from Adam or Zaf that surely should have followed. Earlier, she had found a gun in a drawer and was glad she thought to keep it nearby. She tensed as she heard slow footsteps approaching. She pointed the weapon in the general direction of the stairs, her heart pounding in her ears.

"Ruth?"

"Christ, Harry! I could have shot you!"

"I don't think so if that's the gun from the kitchen…no firing pin."

He flicked on the light, and whatever resolve he had dissolved the instant he saw her blinking and trembling in the middle of that tatty room, panic and sadness and relief all rolled into one. A few long strides, and he was across the room, kissing her senseless.

_**Author's note: Thanks to all who are sticking with this! I hadn't originally intended to bring in 5.5, but I couldn't in all conscience mention Cotterdam and then leave it hanging…I hope you enjoyed this chapter (reviews are greatly appreciated!). Next chapter definitely more fluffy… **_


	11. Chapter 11

He pulled away first, but not far. Ever so slowly, he methodically wiped the tears that were now streaming down her cheeks. He bowed his head, and they stood there silent for some time, forehead to forehead.

"How are you?" she asked, with a tremble in her voice.

He considered his answer. If he had to be completely honest, his head was something akin to a bag full of hammers being repeatedly dropped. He decided on truthful but vague.

"Bloody…but unbowed."

She smiled a bit.

"And how are you?"

She merely bit her lower lip and nodded.

"Have you eaten yet?" he asked.

"No."

"Good, neither have I."

He went back downstairs and started carrying up bags of more groceries. She raised her eyebrows at him, and he shrugged,

"I wasn't sure what Zaf brought along."

Cooking was an adventure, since only one burner on the cooktop actually worked, but somehow they managed. They sat on mismatched chairs at the small table and ate, both hungry enough not to care much what they were eating. During dinner, Harry started rooting around in the kitchen drawers.

"Harry, what are you doing?"

He crowed triumphantly and held up a corkscrew and set about opening up some wine.

"I don't mean to sound ungrateful, but this really must be the worst MI-5 safe house ever."

He suddenly looked very sheepish.

"For once, you can't blame the Service for this one."

"What do you mean?"

"This is my house…well, 'house' might be stretching it a bit. I bought it ages ago, under an alias of course…"

"Of course."

"I found the paperwork for it not long ago. I suppose I meant to do something with it at the time, but I have no idea what."

She marveled, not for the first time, about what it must be like with no memories of the past.

"Well, I won't complain too much, seeing how the landlord has a few things on his plate right now."

He was looking at her quite seriously and she was trying not to blush.

"What's next, Harry?"

"You sit tight. All hell will break loose in Whitehall by morning. Jo's laying a false trail for the plods to follow as to your whereabouts. Malcolm's dissecting every nanosecond of the CCTV of Maudsley, and Adam and Zaf are trying to gather evidence that neither you nor I were "Fox"…"

"Harry, you weren't at that meeting."

"So Zaf's been telling me every time I turn around. I just wish I could be as certain."

"You're a man of principle."

"And does a man of principle leave his best friend for dead or cheat on his wife?"

_So he's starting to remember._

"Everyone makes mistakes, Harry." She reached across the table and covered his hand with her own. He didn't meet her eyes for a long time, but when he did it seemed like the clouds had lifted somewhat.

"Are we usually like this?"

"Like what?"

"Someone always apologizing and the other on the verge of tears."

"This is actually pretty good…for us."

"Christ. I was afraid of that."

She's smiling now, and a chuckle escapes him.

The washing up has been done, and although it's still relatively early, they are both exhausted. He knows he should go; there's a paranoid part of him that believes his presence puts her at greater danger, despite the fact that he's taken every possible precaution. She's fidgeting, and he thinks that what would be annoying in any other person Ruth makes adorable. He's still debating within himself whether or not to go when she shyly asks,

"Would you stay…with me, tonight?"

She's fully aware of the implications of her question. But she's had a lot of time to think lately, and she's realized with a murder charge hanging over her that there are more important things to worry about than office gossip. For every moment that he doesn't answer her, panic rises up, and she starts to think that maybe she's misjudged their situation.

Very slowly, he takes her hand and brings it to his lips.

"I will, if you'd like."

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

There was no couch, and after a great deal of discussion it was decided that they would both share the bed, which proved to be just a mattress on the floor of one of the back rooms. Thankfully, Harry had managed to locate some sheets and blankets and made the bed whilst Ruth was in the bathroom. He had gotten as far as taking off his tie and shoes when she emerged, wearing some grey sweatpants and a t-shirt, both too large for her.

"Sorry, I didn't have time to pack anything. I hope you don't mind…these were in the other room…"

"Not at all."

It is one of the great mysteries of humankind what exactly makes a woman so attractive when she's wearing an item of men's clothing. As she stood in front of him, he thought he had never seen anyone look so lovely. He wondered idly at all the wasted money on fancy lingerie, when the same effect could be had with an old shirt or boxers.

They climbed under the covers, and for a long time just held each other, listening to the rain pounding furiously against the windows. She turned into him, her lips finding his in the darkness. She had managed to undo the buttons on his shirt and was pulling it down from his shoulders when he came to his senses and pulled away.

"Oh God, Harry. I'm so sorry…I…." She promptly rolled over, but he grabbed hold of her before she could scramble off the mattress.

"Ruth…please don't misunderstand." He pulled her close to him before continuing,

"It's just…not here…not in some tatty safe house…" He pulled her even closer so she could be in no doubt that he desired her.

They were silent again for awhile. She felt safe in his arms and he thought that despite everything, he must be the luckiest bastard alive at that moment. He softly kissed the nape of her neck before asking her if they had ever been to Paris.

"Why do you say that?"

"It's just that in my mind there's the association of you and Paris and I haven't been able to figure out why."

"You will. You're starting to remember more."

"Hmm. But not all of it terribly useful. If I could remember anything about Mace, I may have been able to..."

"Don't, Harry. This isn't your fault." She turned around and put her hands to his face, as if to look in his eyes. She softly kissed him again, as if to punctuate her sentence.

"I'm going to meet with him tomorrow."

"Harry…"

"I promise I won't kill him…at least not yet. But the sooner he's out of the picture, the sooner you can leave these lovely accommodations behind."

She chuckled into his shoulder.

"It's definitely growing on me. Just needs a bit of redecorating."

"A woman's touch?"

"Something like that."

He started stroking her hair and let out a little sigh.

"What are we going to do, Harry?" She was no longer talking about Mace.

"When this is over, I'm going to ask you to dinner. Or the theatre. Or a film. Or a walk. And if it's agreeable to you, I will continue to do so until such time as you can no longer stand the sight of me."

"What about work?"

"We'll sort that out. I'd tell them to mind their own business, but I think that after today it's no secret how things stand."

"That's true." They couldn't go back to the time when they each feigned indifference, not after this afternoon when they each tried to get sent to prison for the sake of the other.

"Get some rest, Ruth."

"Good night, Harry."

He lay against her until her breathing was deep and regular and he was satisfied that she was asleep. Then ever so gently, he kissed her on the temple before getting out of bed and heading out into the wild night. He had work to do.


	12. Chapter 12

_**Author's note: I am VERY sorry to have taken so long with this chapter – I was away for a wedding in Texas (the most un-spookslike situation ever!), and it has taken awhile to get this down. One, maybe two chapters to go, I think. Hope you are still enjoying! **_

Ruth shivered and then opened her eyes tentatively. The rain had stopped, and light was fighting its way through the thin morning clouds. It took a few seconds for her sleep-fogged brain to recall why she wasn't looking at her own ceiling. She reached out, but the mattress beside her was empty and she was suddenly gripped with panic.

"Harry?"

Silence. She padded into the kitchen. There was a phone and a note on the table, the paper propped against the empty wine bottle from the night before.

_Ruth,_

_Use this in an emergency. Keep heart – it shouldn't be long now. Would you have dinner with me one night next week?_

_Yours,_

_H. x._

She smiled and wished she could witness Harry's meeting with Mace.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x 

Juliet Shaw was livid. The news reports were full of the Cotterdam fire and how it had been set deliberately in order to secretly extradite and torture some terror suspects. Heads were definitely going to roll over this one, and although her job was safe, the fallout that would be heading her way because this happened on her watch barely bore thinking about. A quick glance around the Grid showed only Harry and Ruth to be unaccounted for at this early hour.

"Briefing room, now."

She was pleasantly surprised by the progress made on the recent threats to the Prime Minister, having assumed that the team would be distracted by what was going on with Ruth, and by extension Harry. _I shouldn't underestimate them, especially when they are protecting their own._ About halfway through the briefing, Harry appeared, looking a bit smug.

"My apologies, Juliet, I had a meeting with an asset."

_Like hell you did. _

"I think we're done here. A word in your office?"

"Of course." He had debated with himself earlier whether or not to go back to his house for a change of clothes and found himself suddenly very glad he did so.

"Where is Ruth?"

"At home, I assume."

"I'm not an idiot, Harry."

"And neither am I." His expression was impassive.

"She's wanted for questioning..."

"Then I'm sure the plods will locate her."

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

Ruth spent the morning leafing through magazines and anxiously listening to the radio for any news. She was annoyed but hardly surprised by the lack of any real information; she had worked in MI-5 long enough to know that what actually happens and what ends up in the news are often very different things. Her thoughts keep turning to the team and how they are doing; she's feeling guilty she's sitting here and not on the Grid pulling her weight. She tries to pull her thoughts away from Harry, but is mostly unsuccessful. Her feelings about him have always been complicated, but after last night and her awkward attempt at seduction things are even more muddled. Her embarrassment is somewhat mollified by the memory of the feel of being in one another's arms.

Before she is able to go far into any kind of analysis, she hears the door below open and shut and she is both disappointed and relieved when Jo appears, her arms laden with more stuff, which she starts to unpack after giving Ruth a big hug.

"Are you OK?"

"I think so. How are things?"

"Under control. The Defense Minister's resigned, so once Mace has been dealt with, it should be safe for you again. Juliet's storming around the Grid breathing fire, but Harry's oddly calm about it and I think that just makes her more angry."

Ruth could picture it in her head. The fact that Harry was calm was reassuring to her, but she worried about him. She refused to hope that Mace would be stopped easily and without consequences. She looked at the bags that Jo had brought. One contained a bathmat, new shower curtain, some toiletries, and towels. The other was much more familiar: a few books, her journal, and clothes from her house.

"Harry thought you might enjoy some more reading material. I wasn't sure what to bring, so I just grabbed what you had on your nightstand."

"Thank you."

"Ruth, it is going to be OK. Harry's not going to let anything happen to you."

"That's not what I'm worried about."

"Then what?"

Ruth really had no idea how to articulate what she was feeling. The young spook considered her friend carefully. _She's scared, but not for herself_. _She's worried about Harry. _

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

In retrospect, he should have seen it coming. Harry Pearce could sometimes favor the brawn over the brain. He was already there when the car pulled up. Why he always insisted on meeting near the river when there was a perfectly good set of chairs at the club, Oliver never knew.

"To what do I owe the pleasure, Harry?"

"I just wanted to say goodbye properly, Oliver."

"You're leaving?"

"No, but I rather think you will be."

"Perhaps, but not quite yet. I still have some things to do. Like taking care of that pesky footage of Maudsley being thrown under a train."

"Oh, I think you'll find that's been taken care of already."

Something in the tone of Harry's voice should've been a warning, but before he could react, Harry's fist had connected with his face, and he found himself being suspended backwards over the balustrade.

"You resign. Today. I don't care where you go or what you do, but if you ever come near Ruth or any of my team again, I _will_ kill you."

He met the pavement, hard, gasping for breath. Blood from his nose spurted onto his very expensive shirt and tie. He looked up, but Harry was already out of sight.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

Two days later and Ruth found herself back on the controlled chaos of the Grid. Harry was nowhere to be found when she walked through the pods that first time, and she felt a pang at his absence. Mace and a few others had resigned, and the scandal left in their wake made it such that no one wanted to look too closely at Ruth's apparent role in the whole thing. A police inspector had chided her about not being easy to find, but that had been the end of it, as far as Section D was concerned.

The nature of the job was that when one threat was neutralized, another one was there to take its place. The Prime Minister was meeting with a very important delegation in two days, and they still hadn't located the group that had been sending him death threats. They were busy enough with surveillance that Harry's continued absence didn't immediately register as particularly unusual until later that evening when she realized she hadn't seen him the entire day. Her mind was reeling from looking at a screen all day when she finally decided to give up and go home and sleep in her own bed for the first time in days. She got a text message as she boarded the bus:

Welcome back. H.x

She sent a message back, but it was some time before she got her reply:

**Collins.**

_That explains it then._ She leant back in her seat, watching London go by and thinking of Harry and all that he had to contend with. She was still thinking of him during her solitary supper and even more so when she finally lay down to sleep.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

It didn't take long for him to regret going back, but he really didn't have much choice after what had happened. He had managed to tamp down the chaos in his head while Ruth was in danger, but after his confrontation with Mace, it was as if the floodgates had burst. The panic attack had left him trembling and on his knees in the middle of the pavement. Somehow he had managed to get a taxi to the clinic and he had the vague impression of Dr. Collins on the phone to Adam.

When he wakes, it is late in the evening, and despite having slept for a solid eight hours, he feels like he could go back to bed again. The doctor enters the room, looking smug.

"What did you give me?" Harry's anger is rising.

"Just something to make you sleep."

"I thought I made it plain I didn't want any drugs."

"When was the last time you had a decent night's sleep?"

"1992. Maybe 1993. But that doesn't explain what happened."

"Maybe not, but I'd like to take "sleep deprivation" off the list of things I need to address with you."

Harry sat and pouted and wished to God Ruth was there with him.

"So, Harry, tell me about the last couple of days…"

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

"That was lovely, Harry. Thank you."

"You're welcome. I'm just sorry we missed our reservation."

"There's always next time."

The look in her eyes was sending his heart into freefall. _Next time._ His meeting with the Home Secretary had run late, and not wanting to put their dinner on hold yet again, Harry had suggested the late night fish-and-chips. They ate and laughed heartily. It was a warm night, and they were walking along the river.

"You haven't mentioned how things were with Dr. Collins the other day."

"No." He stiffened and his voice suddenly acquired an edge.

"I'm sorry…I didn't mean to pry…"

He stopped walking and took her hands in his.

"Ruth…" He trailed off, not knowing what to say.

He looked at her with an expression not unlike that time in the corridor at Havensworth, except this time Ruth didn't feel like running.

"You're starting to remember?"

He nodded.

"Bits and pieces, without much context. But enough to make me not very proud of a lot of things I've done."

They stood like that for awhile, talking in low voices occasionally until it was late, even by Spook standards. He drove her home, and made it back to his own house, the taste of her lips on still on his.

_**Please leave a review!**_


	13. Chapter 13

The car wound its way south out of the city, and as the traffic began to thin out Harry began to feel more and more uneasy. He had nearly decided to give up on the endeavour altogether, but then he berated himself for being a coward. Surely he's faced worse things than his ex-wife. Nevertheless, his heart is beating a little faster when he rings the bell, and if it weren't for the few snapshots back at his house, he would ever have known that the woman who answered the door was once his partner. Physically, there's nothing familiar to him about her, but there's an edge to her voice that can't escape him.

"Harry." If she's surprised by his presence, she doesn't show it.

"Jane. May I come in?"

She reluctantly lets him pass, and he's trying to take in as many things about the interior as he can. He's not sure, but he's inclined to think that this wasn't the house they shared.

"What is this about? If it's about Graham, I have no idea where he is." She doesn't offer him a seat. He senses he has very little time before using up her patience, so he tells her as concisely as he can about his amnesia.

"That's very convenient for you."

"Hardly." He's suddenly annoyed beyond measure and can feel himself losing the handle on his temper.

"What do you want me to do about it?"

"Nothing. There's nothing you can do."

There must be something in his face or voice that strikes her, because when she speaks again, her voice is much softer.

"You really don't remember anything?"

He shook his head slowly.

"It's coming back, very gradually, in bits and pieces. It's impressions of emotion more than anything else."

He looks at her for a few moments before continuing,

"I'm not sure if I ever said it before, but I'm sorry, truly. I never meant…"

"Oh, Harry. That was ages ago. Besides, it wasn't all your fault, although at the time I probably never would have admitted it. We did have some good times, too."

"Tell me about Catherine and Graham."

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

It's nearly six o'clock when Ruth looks over towards Harry's office. He's on the phone, but it's the person on the other end of the line that's doing most of the talking. She also knows that he's been at work since at least 7:00 a.m. when she came in. Eventually, he hangs up, and she goes into his office.

"You should go home, Harry."

"So should you."

"Perhaps. But I don't have a headache or a meeting with the Home Secretary first thing in the morning."

"What makes you think I have a headache?"

She shrugs, and is suddenly uneasy.

"Something in the way you were rubbing your temple while you were on the phone."

She's suddenly embarrassed that she's just revealed how closely she observes him. He's moved out from behind his desk, his tie is loosened and top shirt button undone.

"Come with me."

"Sorry?" She's not a little distracted by Harry's bare throat.

"Let's get out of here, together."

"I can't, Harry, not tonight. Choir practice…"

"Of course." He's not entirely successful in keeping the disappointment out of his voice.

Their relationship since the Cotterdam situation defies definition. They have been out to dinner a few times, each time ending with a passionate kiss on her doorstep. Both hope for more, but neither has taken that first step. Since his meeting with Jane, he has been more cautious than perhaps he otherwise would have been. His lack of memories regarding Ruth frustrates him beyond belief. Sensing his reticence but not understanding its source, Ruth has started to doubt herself. To the people on the Grid, things between the two seem as hopeless as they were before Harry's injury.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

It's late, and as he goes through the pods towards his office he's made a promise to himself that he will only stay long enough to take care of the things the DG needs for Tuesday. It's quiet and dark, but he's not entirely alone. There's a glow from the screen in the briefing room. There is no doubt in his mind that it is Ruth working late, and he's exasperated. She's been after him about his schedule, and here she is not taking her own advice. He's about to chide her on her hypocrisy and convince her to get a late meal with him when the image on the screen stops him in his tracks.

She was so engrossed in the footage before her that she hadn't realized Harry had come in until she heard him gasp. CCTV of the embassy explosion looped in slow motion.

"I thought there might be something we've overlooked…"

He stood transfixed. It had been over two months since the explosion, and they were no closer to finding out who had been responsible for killing seven and injuring dozens more. Her eyes flashed with determination.

"Harry…I'm not going to give up."

"I know. That's one of the many reasons why I love you"

_**Author's note:**_ _**Sorry to take so long to update – darned real life has been getting in the way of fic! I'd love some reviews!**_


	14. Chapter 14

Ruth was angry with herself. She had bolted, of course. His words had terrified her in their simplicity. She needed to think, and she couldn't do that properly while he was looking at her like _that_. He had always been able to disconcert her; it was barely a week after she started working for Five that she knew that things between them could get very complicated very quickly. Although she had no idea how to begin to say what was in her heart, she had managed to convince herself to go and find Harry and talk to him when the man himself appeared at the door to the rooftop.

The silence was deafening. At this time of night, even the city spread out before them seemed to have given up and left them with their thoughts. He stood at the railing, a little distance away from her. She looked down at her hands, and bit her lower lip. Several minutes passed before either spoke.

"Please, Ruth, say something…anything. Even if it's just to tell me to bugger off."

"When you said what you did, did you mean it?"

_Is that the kind of person she thinks I am?_

"Of course I did. Although I never intended to tell you in quite so clumsy a manner. In all the hundreds of ways I imagined saying it, the Grid never came into it."

He smiled and was reassured to see her smiling back.

"And how did you imagine saying it?" She took a step towards him.

Even in the darkness, he could discern a glint in her eyes. He walked towards her, and took hold of her hands. Leaning over he whispered into her ear, his breath sending a thrill down her spine.

"You don't expect me to spill all of my secrets in one night, do you?"

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

The sunlight was warm across his face and he welcomed it. He was very content generally, and enjoying his brief respite from his usual obligations.

"So, what do you think?" his companion sitting beside him on the blanket asked.

"About what?"

"About getting married, you idiot." The grape that she flung at him glanced off his forehead and ended up somewhere in the grass beyond.

He kept his eyes closed, which was probably not helping him to avoid escalating her annoyance.

"I'm leaving the army in three months."

"Perfect time for a new start."

He tentatively opens one eye and looks at her, trying to figure her out. She continues,

"You don't want to marry me."

"I don't want us to live in destitution."

"I'm beginning to think you've gone off of me." She's leaning over him now, her fingers trailing slowly down his chest. He's trying hard not to react, and is unsuccessful.

"We get on, don't we, Harry?" She whispers in his ear.

"Of course."

"Don't worry about it. I have faith in you. The Home Office thing will work out. Even if it doesn't, I'm sure Daddy can sort something out for you."

Great. Nothing beats working for your father-in-law on the scale of happiness…

Before he can protest, she kisses him and whatever else he had meant to say has left him completely.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

He shudders awake, and for an instant is disoriented until his mind registers Ruth's warm, sleeping form beside him. He takes a deep breath, and ever so gently presses himself up against her. He doesn't want to wake her, but his need to touch her is almost overwhelming. Although sharing a bed is an unfamiliar situation for him, sharing a bed with _her_ feels to him the most natural and wonderful thing in the world. He could practically cry with the rightness of it all. He's replaying the events of a few hours ago in his head when he's suddenly aware that the rhythm of her breathing has changed ever so slightly.

"Harry, are you OK?" Her voice is low, tinged with sleep and a little bit of uneasiness.

"Perfect." He pulls her even closer, and kisses her neck.

"I'm sorry I woke you," he continues.

"I'm not." She turned over to face him and he felt rather than saw her smile as she slowly kissed his chest. Her hand, which had found his hip, started to move southward.

"Ruth…" It was less of a word and more of a moan.

"We have at least an hour before we need to get ready for work…"

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

Nearly two hours later, and Harry is inordinately glad when the third occupant of the lift exits, leaving him alone with Ruth. She deliberately moved to the opposite end of the lift but now that the interloper has gone, he moves closer to her. She glances over at him, and although her tone is scolding, she is smiling.

"Don't look so smug, Harry."

"Hi, Pot. My name is Kettle."

"I'm serious."

"I can't help it, Ruth." Seeing that she started to look truly alarmed, he continued,

"It'll be OK, Ruth, I promise."

There was something in those eyes of his that made her melt.

"They'll find out."

"I bloody well hope so. If they don't, I may have to sack the lot. Ruth, I love you, and I don't care who knows it."

Just then the lift doors opened, and as they stepped out she grabbed hold of his sleeve.

"I love you, Harry."

She quickly pecked him on the lips before striding through the pods, her cheeks flushing crimson.


	15. Chapter 15

_**Author's note: Thank you for your patience for sticking with this story, and thank you for pushing the reviews past the 100 mark! I hadn't intended to take so long with these updates, but work and life generally are pretty crazy at the moment. Not sure where this story is taking me – feel free to send me ideas/prompts!**_

"You're quiet this evening."

"I'm sorry. It's just…" he trailed off, not sure how much he should tell her.

They are unusually at Harry's, curled on the sofa, both the wine and the television neglected. As his thumb gently brushes the back of her hand, Ruth contemplates how her life has so completely and impossibly changed in such a short period of time. _This is madness_ has crossed her mind more than once in the last few weeks, but after a long and harrowing day when they are together like this, her insecurities dissipate and she wonders at whatever possessed her to turn him down for a second date. She doesn't press him; she knows that whatever it is he will tell her when he's ready. There's something in the way he's holding her, and the gentleness of his touch that worries her. He's undoubtedly uneasy about something.

For the first time in several hours, the whirlwind in his head has calmed somewhat. He's trying, with uneven success, to figure out what to say. He can feel her nervousness build the longer he stays silent. He doesn't mean to worry her like this, but he's trying to make the most of the moment. They don't often have the opportunity to just _be_. She feels warm and reassuring against him, and he thinks he could easily get drunk on the scent of her hair. Her fingers entwine with his. They've been silent for so long, that when he does speak, his voice seems harsher than it is.

"I had a long meeting with Collins this morning."

"And...?"

"He's not optimistic."

"But Harry, you're remembering things all the time."

"Not enough, apparently."

Despite his protests, she pulled herself out of his embrace. She needed to look at him. His expression was resigned, but she knew better. His eyes reminded her of the river; calm on the surface, but with dangerous currents underneath. She was angry, and that reassured him like nothing else.

"So what now?"

"He wants me to try this drug…"

"And what did you say?"

"You know me. I'm inclined to say "no". But I wanted to talk to you about it first."

Now she understood. It wasn't necessarily his prognosis that had been bothering him; he was used to and, in fact, expected to fight with Collins. He was nervous about how she would react to this new stage of their relationship. Relief washed over her and she smiled, completely taking Harry aback. He was still marveling at her when she leaned into him and kissed him hard.

Sometime later, the shrill ring of Harry's phone interrupted their peace. Harry practically growled into the phone.

"I have to go." He started to look for his discarded tie.

"Do you need me?" she asked.

"Always." He smiled, then kissed her.

"JIC emergency meeting. Hopefully, I'll only be an hour or so." He looked at her questioningly.

"Go. I'll sort myself out."

Once he had gone, Ruth found herself oddly at a loss. It was late, but not so late that she couldn't get herself home and sorted for the morning, but that wasn't very appealing to her despite it being very strange to be in Harry's house without Harry. She put away the wine, made sure Scarlett had water, and then made her decision.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

It was nearly two in the morning by the time Harry left Whitehall. He was exhausted but oddly exhilarated. He settled in the back of the cab, and let his mind wander.

He's slightly damp from waiting for the bus. He sees her sitting towards the front, reading a book, of course, and he is relieved that the very few others on the bus are suitably distracted. He slides in the seat behind her, and takes a slightly longer moment than strictly necessary before speaking.

"Nice night out."

She's not as surprised as he thought she'd be by his presence, and he's inexplicably glad.

"I thought you were some weirdo." Even though he can only see the back of her head, he can tell she's smiling.

She hands him the memory stick, and his breath hitches when her hand softly caresses his. The unexpected frisson turns him into an idiot and suddenly all he can talk to her about is work.

He enters his house, and is immediately aware of a light from upstairs. He quells the hope in his heart as his training kicks in and he climbs the stairs without a sound. Muscled tensed, he's ready for an attack. Peering around the doorway, the scene before him makes him smile. She's in his bed, sound asleep and he thinks it's the most beautiful sight he's ever seen. He tries not to wake her as he climbs into bed beside her.

"Everything OK?" she asks sleepily.

"Everything's fine." He pulls her closer.

"The JIC?"

"It'll wait until morning. It's mostly Six's problem, anyway. Stop thinking about work, Ruth, and get some rest." He smiles against her neck.

Only when he's certain she's asleep again does he let his mind go and follow suit.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

"Mr. Younis, my office. Now."

Zaf's affable mood is instantly shattered by the tone of Harry's voice. The door is closed behind him, which is never a good sign. He wonders whether or not to sit, then wisely decides not to unless Harry tells him to. Harry is radiating fury and his stare makes Zaf feel sorry for anyone who has ever been across an interrogation table from his boss. The operation with Adam went off better than anyone could have expected, so he's at a loss about Harry's displeasure. Unless…_oh hell and damnation. He knows. Damn. Damn. Damn! How could he possibly know? He knows._

"Mr. Younis." The edge to his voice could break glass.

"Sir?" Zaf feebly hopes to get out of this room alive, never mind with a career.

"The book is closed."

"Yes." He swallows hard, and perhaps against his better judgment he feels the need to elaborate,

"It wasn't malicious. We all love Ruth, Harry, and just wanted to see her happy."

"And what do you think would happen when she found out? A private person like Ruth…her coworkers placing wagers on…what?" He leans up against his desk, and the fire in his eyes flickers ever so slightly. He takes a deep breath, then continues a little less harshly,

"I may be an amnesiac, but I'm not an idiot. And if I thought for one instant you didn't care about Ruth, we wouldn't be having this conversation…you would already be on your way to South America by now. Our lives are complicated enough, don't you think?"

The young spook merely nodded, and from the look of contrition on his face, Harry thought he had scared him enough. He indicated the door with a nod of his head.

"Go. You will be instrumentally helpful in Ruth's project to reorganize the files in the Forgery suite."

"Of course." He was nearly out the door when Harry called him back.

"Zaf, what were the odds?"

Zaf told him, and he considered.

"Don't quit your day job, Mr. Younis," he chuckled.

_**Please leave a review!**_


	16. Chapter 16

_He's alive._ Rain beat furiously against the car windows as Mike drove her to the hospital, not nearly fast enough. _He's still alive._ She steadfastly refused to truly believe it, until she could see him with her own eyes.

She had steeled herself for an argument about seeing him, but it never happened. With her hand still clutching her ID card, a nurse ushered her into a slightly out of the way, cheerless waiting room and told her that "Mr. Pearce is still in surgery," and that a doctor would see her shortly. The brief glimmer of hope that she had been carrying wavered; surely he should be out of surgery by now? Nothing was to be gained by second-guessing, she could only wait and hope and pray. Unable to concentrate on the vacuous year-old magazines, she paced and fidgeted.

In her growing panic, it took her awhile to process that she was no longer alone in the waiting room. The figure of Dr. Collins, the doctor helping Harry deal with his amnesia, had appeared in the doorway.

"Ms. Evershed…Ruth, he's going to be OK."

"So, you work on gunshot victims as well?" Her fear had made her more sarcastic than she had intended.

"I just saw Harry's surgeon, and he sent me in here to give you the update. He's going to be OK, Ruth."

Relief washed over her. She found herself in a chair without remembering sitting down. Collins sat down next to her and rather awkwardly put his arm around her shoulder while her sobbing subsided.

"You'll be able to see him soon."

"Thank you."

It was a few more minutes before her brain kicked in again.

"Doctor, why _are_ you here?"

"I need to run some tests on Harry…when he's awake. Trauma tends to do some interesting things…"

She was suddenly very angry.

"He's remembering more and more, you know."

"I know." She didn't know Collins very well, but she could've sworn there was a glint of amusement in his eyes.

He continued,

"He's making quite good progress, but he could do better. Forgive me, but I thought he was getting a bit distracted."

"So you let on that he wasn't progressing?"

"It was a gamble, I'll admit. But you know Harry. Tell him he can't do anything, and he'll move heaven and earth to do it. He would love nothing more than to prove me wrong, and if it takes a little subterfuge to get him well again, I don't mind."

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

He slept and every rise and fall of his chest lightened her heart a little bit more. She sat beside the bed, holding his hand, and paradoxically wanting him to sleep and recover and yet longing to be able to look into his eyes and talk to him. She had no idea how long she had been there with him, but she thought that he was looking a little less ashen than he was a little while ago. His lips formed a little pout as he slept on, and she couldn't help but think back to a few nights ago.

"You know I'm right, Harry."

"It is a possibility, yes."

"Then why?"

"Because it's what we do, Ruth. It is a chance worth taking if the information we get will save lives."

She opened her mouth to protest, but he grabbed hold of her hands and continued,

"I'm not going to let anyone else do my dirty work. Besides…" here he ever so softly started to kiss the side of her neck, slowly working down towards her collarbone,

"I…trust…you…to take…care…of me."

"Harry." He continued his exploration.

"Hmm?"

"Don't think for one minute that your charm offensive is going to make me feel any better about what you're planning."

He pulled back, and looked back at her in mock indignation.

"Well, you have to admit it was worth a try."

"By all means, don't stop trying." She grinned.

It was sometime later, when they were both spent but happy, that he was stroking her hair and looking at her quite seriously. She thought she had recognized that look.

"Are you remembering something?"

He shook his head slowly.

"No. Right now I'm more concerned with making memories, Ruth."

He took her hand that had been tracing one of his scars and brought it to his lips.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

He had a most definite memory of feeling like this before, but somehow in the midst of the pain, he knew something was very different from the last time. It took him quite a long time (he thought) to narrow it down, but eventually the fog of his mind lifted sufficiently for him to realize that someone was holding his hand. He fought to open his eyes, but the effort was exhausting and he soon fell back into oblivion.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

His thumb had been stroking hers for the last few minutes, and on more than one occasion he had opened his eyes, only to close them again immediately. Doctors and nurses came by at frequent intervals, and no argument they offered would convince Ruth to move from where she was. He shivered, and she moved to pull the blanket higher up on his shoulder when he languidly opened his eyes and kept them open. His amber gaze rested on her and he smiled weakly.

"Hey you," his voice was faint.

"Hey yourself."

"Anyone else…?"

"No, Harry. Everyone's fine."

She could see the relief in his eyes, and she kissed his forehead before continuing,

"Save your strength, Harry."

He muttered something that sounded to her like "nonsense" before he drifted off again.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

It was some time before Dr. Collins was able to do his tests. Ruth eventually conceded that she needed to at least take a shower and get a change of clothes, but only did so when she was certain that Harry would be alright for an hour or so. When she came back, she was surprised to find Harry sitting up with the remains of what looked like a pretty substantial meal.

They sat quietly together for some time, almost awkward with each other again.

"I'm sorry, Ruth. Despite the evidence to the contrary, I don't have a death wish. Far from it in fact," he kissed her hand.

"It's what we do, Harry. I fell in love with you, all of you. Even the stubborn, workaholic, duty-driven bits. Just promise me you'll try to stop going for the 'Been shot the most times and survived' record."

She smiled, and he could help but chuckle a bit, which made a sharp pain radiate through his ribcage.

"I remember being slightly annoyed. The DG had gone and picked someone without giving me a say. We were in the briefing room, and you stumbled in, dropping files as you went. I made some stupid joke, and I can't be sure, but I think by the time you said 'Bugger the Home Office' I was a lost man."

If anyone had walked in on them at that moment, they would be hard pressed to say who was wearing the bigger grin.

Author's Note: Sorry to take so long with updates to this, it certainly wasn't my intention to take 2+ weeks per chapter! I hope you're still enjoying. I think this just about wraps up this story – I may have an epilogue kicking around in my head somewhere…The truth is I have a fantastic idea (if I do say so) for an H/R angsty fic- I'm surprised no one has thought of this yet and I need to get it down ASAP! Please leave a review!


	17. Chapter 17

"Harry?"

"I'm OK, Ruth."

"You don't sound very convincing."

"It'll pass…just…don't go anywhere."

Going anywhere had been the last thing on her mind, even before she heard the slight tremor in his voice. They sat on a bench in the dimming twilight, and she held his hand and rubbed his back with the other. After a few moments, she felt the trembling subside and could hear his breathing return to normal. In her typical Ruth way, she had done some research and knew that with Harry's amnesia he'd be prone to panic attacks, but this was the first time she had actually witnessed such a thing. It was the suddenness of it that had frightened her the most. They were discussing dinner plans, and then he had instantly gone pale and clammy and slightly disoriented. He sat for a long while with his head in his hands, while she continued to brush her palm over the expensive cloth of his jacket. She felt the tension in his shoulders and was angry at her helplessness. When he lifted up his head, she was heartened to see that some of his colour had returned. With surprising quickness, he got up from the bench and moved to the railing, gripping it until his knuckles turned white.

Harry was livid. He wanted to scream until his lungs burst. He was tired of it all – the chasms in his memory, the headaches, the panic attacks. He had thought that he had at least managed to control the latter and was starting to feel pretty pleased with himself about his progress in that respect, until this evening. In the haze of his fury, he realized that she hadn't moved. Ruth always seemed to know when to push him and when to let him be and work things out on his own. _What did I do to deserve her?_ He turned around to look at her, and the sight of her in the slowly fading light softened his temper.

"Please, don't look at me like that."

"Should I call the doctor?"

"There's no point." Sadness had replaced the anger.

Without a word, she walked up to him and wrapped her arms around him. Instinctively, he bowed his head until their foreheads touched and he let out a small sigh. They stood like that for a long time, oblivious to curious passers-by.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

She gratefully kicked her shoes off, removed her hat, and lay back against the headboard. Looking back over the day, she couldn't help but chuckle. He raised an eyebrow at her before painstakingly resuming peeling off the layers of his mourning suit.

"Something amusing?"

"I was just thinking of my mother's reaction when I tell her that I met the Queen today, _Sir_ Harry."

"I don't think I'll ever get used to that," he pouted and sat on the bed.

"Well, _Sir_ Harry, I don't think you have much choice in the matter now." She shifted her position, wrapping her arms around him from behind and softly nuzzling his earlobe.

"I suppose your mother will approve of me now, though," he continued, trying desperately to ignore the sensations she was creating in him.

"She doesn't disapprove. She just has no idea what to make of you, that's all."

"Well, as long as I never go down in your estimation…"

He turned around and kissed her passionately. A little sigh of contentment escaped her, and he knew himself to be the happiest man on the planet at that moment. Well, almost.

He broke away and suddenly looked so serious that Ruth started to worry.

"Harry?"

"Ruth…do you think you could get used to being "Lady Pearce'?"

She left him in no doubt whatsoever that she could.

Author's note: Sorry for the short length of this chapter. I thought I was done with this, but apparently not! At least an epilogue to come, and maybe even another chapter or two - any ideas or prompts are greatly appreciated. Reviews would be lovely!


	18. Chapter 18

Author's Note: I apologize profusely for taking so long to update this. Thanks to Sparky75 for prompting me to get off my duff and write some more! I hope you enjoy – if you do (or do not), please leave a review!

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

The drive out of the city was a silent one. The sky was dark and threatening, and perfectly suited to the general atmosphere of the day, she thought wryly. She took advantage of the opportunity to study the man beside her, who was driving with more care than was absolutely warranted. His was a profile that reminded her sometimes of an ancient coin, especially when his hair started to curl in the back in the few days before a haircut. The firm set of his brow and jaw was set off somewhat incongruously by the softness of his mouth. He wasn't handsome in a conventional sense, but she could think of no one else that she had ever known that attracted her that he did. His shoulders were tense and rigid, as if they were used to carrying the sadness of the world on them. Her gaze unconsciously followed the angle of his arms and rested on the hands guiding the steering wheel. Her rather pleasant reverie about what those hands could do was interrupted by Harry shutting off the engine and taking the keys out of the ignition. Without her realizing it, they had arrived.

Before she had time to react, he was out of the car and stood before her, unusually tense and awkward. Try as she might, she can't read his expression; it could be any number of things or all of them – sadness, anger, regret, shame.

"This will probably be unpleasant." It's the most words he's strung together all morning.

"All the more reason for me to be here with you." She gives him a reassuring smile, and then reflexively reaches for his tie. She unrepentantly unties the perfect knot, and removing the tie altogether, undoes the top button of his shirt.

Not for the first time, he's humbled by her. He's also acutely aware that if she were any other woman, his taciturn mood the last few days would have earned him much less understanding than she was giving him now. He made a promise to himself at that moment that whatever happened this afternoon he damn well would make things up to her.

"Thank you," he whispers as he kisses her softly on the forehead before taking her hand and leading the way towards the door.

The building before them is old and massive, and Ruth surmises that despite the enormous fees, it must be difficult financially to maintain. The lawn is dotted with chairs in various configurations, but no one is out on a day like today. The wind has picked up, and she's chilled on the short walk up the path. He only relinquishes her hand when he needs to sign something at the front desk, and is quick to reclaim it when he's done.

"How is he today?"

"Much the same, Mr. Pearce. Although he did have a bit of breakfast this morning, which is an improvement over the last few days."

Harry thanked the nurse, and steered them down the corridor. She could feel him brace himself the closer they came to their ultimate destination. She squeezed his hand as he knocked perfunctorily, and he stole a glance down at her as he opened the door.

The occupant of the room seemed not to notice their entrance. Ruth didn't know what to expect, but she was still surprised by the figure in the bed. Even though she had never seen him before, she imagined James Pearce differently than the thin, pale shadow of a figure before them. Upon closer observation, though, she could see the echo of brow and chin that she had observed in the son. It took her a moment to also realize that Harry's father was not unaware of their presence, merely willfully ignoring it.

"Hi," the son greeted softly.

The father slowly, deliberately turned his eyes away from the window and fixed them on Harry.

"You again." _At least he remembers something_, Harry thought grimly.

"Yes."

The amber eyes rested on Ruth, and if there were any doubt in her mind that Harry resembled his father, it was gone in that glance.

"This is Ruth, Dad."

The elder Pearce said nothing, but after a few agonizing seconds motioned for Ruth to sit down, with the definite implication that Harry should stay where he was.

The conversation was awkward, with James changing his mood nearly as often as the topic. Harry watched on, wary. Every once in awhile, Ruth would glance at him as if to gauge how he was doing. He suddenly felt very guilty. His father was clearly enjoying having someone to talk to, and he hadn't been here for him nearly often enough.

"Why on earth are you with him?" James nodded in Harry's direction, and continued before Ruth could reply.

"He's a spy you know."

Harry could swear that his heart stopped. Had his father known about his job?

"Really?" Ruth tried to keep the surprise and panic from her voice.

"Of course. He keeps tabs on me, and reports back to the director. I'd be home with my wife and boys right now if it weren't for him."

Ruth stroked the back of the old man's hand, and it seemed to calm him a bit.

"Tell me about them."

James frowned and was silent for a long time. Ruth swore she could practically hear Harry's heart breaking. She looked over at him, but his face was unreadable. _He's locking everything away again_, she thought.

"Fiona's always laughing, happy. I don't think she has ever been cross, well except maybe when she was in labor…" He smiled.

"…much more than I could have ever deserved."

"And your boys?" Curiosity is getting the better of her.

He's much more lucid and talkative than he has been in previous visits. His eyes light up with pride as he talks about his and his brother Ben's exploits; for some reason a story about an innocuous encounter with a headmaster makes him laugh uncontrollably for a good five minutes. Harry, for his part, doesn't know what to do or feel. He knows, logically, that there's only a small chance that what he's hearing actually happened, but a part of him is thirsty for any knowledge of his past and his family, fictional or no.

"You would like my son Harry. You'd be much better for him than the one he says he's marrying."

Harry's head snapped up. For a split second, Ruth thought he was referring to herself until she realized that their engagement was scarcely one week old and James wouldn't have known about it yet.

"Jane's pretty and has legs that go on forever. But it won't last. She's already trying to change him. What she doesn't realize is that he's more stubborn than she thinks…"

Harry's memories of Jane are sketchy at best, and he can't help but be intrigued by this view of the matter.

"Yes, Harry would be better off with you."

"I certainly hope so," Harry says, with a little glimmer in his eye that he sees reflected in Ruth's face.

Not long afterwards, James drifts off into a fitful sleep, and the two visitors leave silently.

"Do you mind if we drive for awhile?" he asks her.

"Not at all." She knows he needs some time to think, and a drive through the countryside, even on a less than perfect day is a luxury for them.

She thinks about the events of the day and she wishes very much that she could have known James before the Alzheimer's took him away, although she suspects that she did see the briefest spark of his usual self. She truly understood now just how difficult this situation was for Harry. It was hard enough to see your father fade away slowly, but how much more difficult could it be when you had no memories to comfort you either?

He covers her hands with one of his and she's glad that he hasn't shut her out completely.

"He's very proud of you."

"He doesn't remember me." There's a hitch to his voice.

"He doesn't need to. He loves you, Harry."


End file.
